


Five Times Schneider Said Elena Looked Like Her Mom and the One Time She Believed Him

by sadieHD



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, dad!Schneider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieHD/pseuds/sadieHD
Summary: Elena's proudly Cuban and unfortunately pale. She's never thought she looked like her Mami. But Schneider's always been able to look past the Anne Hathaway and see the Alvarez in her.





	Five Times Schneider Said Elena Looked Like Her Mom and the One Time She Believed Him

I 

 

Elena reminded herself to thank her abuelita for the millionth time for her quinces outfit. 

 

It was a beautiful suit that fit surprisingly well considering she hadn’t been fitted. But the real kicker (pun absolutely intended) were the Docs. Elena knew a thousand percent that she wouldn’t be standing at this point if she had to wear heels. 

 

She’d been on the dance floor since the court entrance. She loved prancing energetically around Carmen, who, once the court dance was over, did little more than swaying slowly, not even attempting to get in time with the music. Josh even danced with them. His steps were a little clumsy, but his lessons with Lydia had really paid off. 

 

But eventually Carmen left to go catch up with Lydia and thank Schneider. Josh and the rest of her court went to go get some food. Penelope was off yelling at a tia for messing with the decorations. Even Alex left to go try to hit on some girls way too old for him and way outta his league. The dance floor was still crowded as relatives took their place, but not anyone she was close to. 

 

She’s having a good time, she really is. She’s trying really hard to convince herself that. 

 

Truth be told, she was scared to sit down. She was worried that the second she was off her feet, she’d start thinking again. She’d start thinking about her Papi and how he’d left her. 

 

It really was nice to have her family around her, supporting her. But that doesn’t take away the fact that her father wasn’t there for her. Even worse: he was there, and he’d chosen to leave. Oh, no. The message he was trying to send was received. He would rather not have a daughter than have a gay child. 

 

It was embarrassing. She tried to ignore the pitying looks she knew she was getting, but it was getting too much. She suddenly realized that she wasn’t even dancing anymore; she was just standing perfectly still in the middle of the dance floor. 

 

She smiled at concerned looks, muttering something about being tired and how it had been a long day, knowing she wasn’t convincing a soul. She maneuvered her way off the dance floor and squeezed her way through the crowd. There were way to many people and she could feel them all staring at her. She couldn’t escape their prying eyes. She just needed space. She needed a quiet place to think. 

 

The party around her was loud and overwhelming. All the hot bodies and pungent perfumes and yelling Cubans were suddenly too much. She kicked herself for being so ungrateful. She knew her mother had worked tirelessly--quite literally--to set this all up. And Elena couldn’t appreciate it? Maybe that’s why her Papi left. Not because she was gay, but because he knew that whatever kindness he did give her would go unappreciated. He’d given her support for this long, and what has he gotten in return other than disappointment? 

 

Elena finally pushed her way through to an exit. She practically ran through the hallway until she burst through the doors to a balcony. She gripped the railing and took a long, shaky breath. Despite her best efforts, her thoughts came whirling back to her. 

 

She was just a disappointment. Not just to her father. She didn’t understand her brother. She wasn’t supportive enough of her mom. And she didn’t know Spanish for her abuela. 

 

Is that why she was throwing herself into this whole “gay” thing? Because she wasn’t connected enough to her own culture that she had to find something else? She knew her abuelita didn’t think she was Cuban enough. She was practically white. Hell, even Schneider was darker than her. 

 

Right on cue, Schneider opened the door slowly. “Hey,” he began. “You okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” she said, pointedly not looking him. “I just need some space.” 

 

“Right, right. Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool,” he muttered quickly, stepping farther onto the balcony and leaning his elbows on the railing, closing the door behind him. She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, hoping he’d get the hint that he was kind of intruding. “Crazy day, eh?”

 

She groaned. Of course he wouldn’t get the memo. It’s not like he ever had as long as she’d known him. “Schneider, can you please just go?” 

 

“Yeah, sure, right,” he said, pushing off the railing a bit. “I’ll go right on. Leavin’. I’m gone, I’m Audi 5000. Ready to skirt. Boot. Scram.” He didn’t get any closer to the door. He raised his hand to his face, instinctively pushing up his glasses, forgetting he didn’t have them on. He scratched his nose as cover. “You know,” he began again. “I’m kinda the expert of having a shitty dad. Got forty years under my belt. In case you want any tips.” 

 

Elena sighed. “Tips on what? Drinking?” It was a low blow, she knew. He didn’t deserve that--he was just trying to help, and here she was, reminding him of what was probably a pretty rough part of his life. 

 

Schneider just smiled. “If you wanted, sure. But I don’t think I’m the leading expert on that anymore.” 

 

“Papi probably is,” she muttered without even realizing. She laughed ruefully. “He said he’d stopped with the drinking and the pills, but I doubt it.”

 

“Some addicts need a little longer to get it together.”

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time he’s let us down.” 

 

“Some addicts can’t think straight and realize what they’re missing.” His voice was softer this time and he nudged her shoulder. They stood in silence for a while, shoulders pressed lightly together. Elena relaxed a little. His presence still wasn’t exactly welcome, but she didn’t necessarily want him to leave. It was nice to not be alone. He seemed to get it. 

 

“I tried to stop him.” Elena didn’t look at him, but her head turned slightly. His voice was weary, like it was his fault. 

 

“You what?” 

 

He hung his head, swaying it side to side. “When I saw him leave during your dance… I tried to get him to come back. I’m sorry, I just… I know what it’s like when your dad’s not there for you. I know how much it hurts. And I didn’t want you to go through that.” He scoffed, rubbing his fingers over the knuckles of his right hand.. “Fat lot of good, that did.” 

 

It took Elena a moment to process exactly what he meant. She straightened and looked at him. “You _punched_ _Papi_?” ‘Shocked’ didn’t even begin to describe the emotion she was feeling.

 

Schneider shrank. “I didn’t mean to! He was just being so stubborn and when I tried to get in his way he’d shove me and I didn’t know what else to do and I’m sorry-”

 

He was interrupted by a large, uproaring, laughter. Elena was practically wheezing and clutched her stomach tightly. It had to have been a couple of minutes before she had to take a moment to breath. Schneider was wincing. “You okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” she said, still out of breath. “I just can’t believe you did that for me.” She snorted, trying to hold back even more laughter. “He’s gonna kill you, man.” 

 

By now Schneider had that dopey grin back on his face. “Eh, it’s fine. Worth it.” 

 

The humor from the shock of the news had worn off (well, not really, but to be fair she didn’t think it ever would), and Elena turned to him. “What happened?”

 

“He just… Look, kid, I don’t wanna say anything that’s gonna hurt you.” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “Schneider, it’s not like you’re gonna leave me abandoned during the moment that’s supposed to be just for us. Come on, I- I wanna hear it.” 

 

Schneider studied her, looking for what, she didn’t know. Satisfied, he sighed. “We live in LA, you know? It’s not everyday you hear those kinds of opinions. And the way he just left like that? As if it was an easy choice to make? As if it were nothing to him? It reminded me a lot of my own dad. I know it’s not really my place, I just did what I wish someone had done for me when I was a kid. Of course I was sticking up for you, but in my head I was kinda sticking up for me, too.”  

 

Elena nodded. She wanted to hear it, needed to hear it. “Thanks, Schneider.” 

 

He looked at her seriously. “Listen, Elena. You’re a strong and amazing young woman. Just because your dad can’t see it, don’t let anyone or anything take that away from you. I’m not saying getting through this is easy--I’m not even saying there is a ‘getting through’ it. But you have a tough, loving family. Don’t forget that and don’t hesitate to rely on any of them when you need a reminder for how incredible you are.” 

 

Elena nodded again, eyes filling with tears. He pulled her in for a hug and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. “You know how much we love you, right?” He asked, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, careful to avoid the tiara. 

 

Elena didn’t respond at first. “How come I wasn’t enough for him?” she finally asked, clutching Schneider even closer, trying to hide her tears as though her voice wasn’t thick with held in sobs. 

 

“Oh, Elena,” he hummed, rocking her slightly. “It’s not about being enough. He can’t see you, that’s all. That’s on him. I swear, that has _ nothing _ to do with you.” 

 

She nodded, his voice echoing in her head until she forced herself to believe it. Well, maybe she didn’t believe it quite yet, but she was lucky enough to have a family who loved her. A  _ real _ family. Her mom, her brother, her abuela, her landlord, and her mom’s boss. She cracked a small smile. Okay, maybe it was a little weird, but they all loved her. She felt that tonight, even if it wasn’t what she was looking for. She’d always have her family. 

 

She looked up to catch Schneider gazing down at her fondly. “You look just like your mom.” 

 

Elena snorted. “What, in my suit and bodice? Yeah, my mom wears stuff like that all the time.” 

 

“No,” he insisted softly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Not that.” 

 

Elena was quick to roll her eyes and shrug his comments aside. She never thought she looked like her mom. Elena was pale. She hated to admit it, but she was practically white. She had excuses, she supposed. Colonization of the Americas led to an ethnicity sporting all sorts of variances in skin tone. It didn’t make her feel better, knowing she looked more like the oppressors than the oppressed. 

 

She was always easy to find in large family photos. Just look for the white girl. It pained her to look so different from the rest of her family. She remembered once in elementary school when her Mami was meeting her teachers. They had asked if Penelope was the nanny. Even when she was young, she could see the fire in her Mami’s eyes. But she hadn’t yelled, she didn’t kick or scream. “No,” she’d said calmly, through clenched teeth. “I’m Elena’s mother.” 

 

Elena didn’t think she looked like her mom. Penelope probably didn’t think Elena looked like her. No one did. Alex was always the mama’s boy (well, the mama’s mama’s boy, but close enough). Elena looked like… well, if anyone, Elena looked like her dad. He was also on the paler side, for Cubans. 

 

She hated that. How come she has to look like the parent who doesn’t give a shit about her? The parent who doesn’t give a shit about anyone? 

 

She starts tearing up, but it’s not out of sadness anymore. Thinking of how her Papi’s treated her family these past few years leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. 

 

“Hey, hey! I meant it as a compliment!” Schneider said. He rubbed her arms a little, grounding her. 

 

She looked back on him and tried to smile. She didn’t quite get there. “It just sucks, ya know?” 

 

His grin faded. “Yeah. I get it.” 

 

And he really did get it. She knew he got it. The Alvarez’s only got snippets of his family life, but it wasn’t great, she knew. Seeing him before her, emotions laid bare, she was thankful he’d come out to check on her tonight. She was thankful he’d been stupid enough to punch her dad. She was thankful he was a part of her life. 

 

She hugged him again. He waited a few moments before asking, “Do you need another minute?” 

 

She shook her head. 

 

“Ready to get back out there?” 

 

She nodded. She didn’t want her mom to notice she was missing and freak out. She took a moment to wipe her eyes, and asked him if her makeup was ruined or if her skin was noticeably blotchy. He gave her the all clear.

 

When they walk out, her arm in his, she feels better than before. Not perfect; she still has a lot to deal with. But she feels better. The weight on her chest has lifted and her smile is a little more genuine. 

 

That is, until Alex brushes past them with bright red smudged on his cheeks as he escapes an over-eager tia with too much lipstick. Elena shoves Schneider, who yelped in protest, in her direction as a distraction and runs after her brother. 

  
  


II 

 

When she breaks up with Syd, she goes to him first. She knows she can’t keep it from her family forever, but they’d be all over her, demanding answers. “What happened? Did they hurt you?” “The machete’s still in the garage, give me one minute.” “Do you want me to ruin their life of social media? Because I totally will.” 

 

She can’t blame them for asking those questions. She knows it’s only out of love. But right now, she really can’t handle that. But it’s been almost a week, and she hasn’t told anyone. A week of cheery smiles and keeping up her high-energy persona so no one would think twice. A week of running to the bathroom when someone mentioned Syd’s favorite video game, or when she saw someone reading Chamber of Secrets in the library, or when they passed Benihana. A week of collapsing at the end of the day and sobbing into her pillow to muffle the sound. But she knows she can’t keep it up for long. Elena knows if she doesn’t let it out, if she doesn’t tell someone, she’s gonna scream. 

 

So she goes to Schneider’s without a second thought. She wouldn’t be surprised if he knew already. Sure he acts like un bobo, but he’s not a stupid as the Alvarez’s suspect. He’s always there for them, so he’s bound to pick up on some things her family isn’t likely to notice. Her mom’s swamped with work, and her abuelita and her brother are a little too self-absorbed to realize Elena’s significant other hasn’t been around in a while. But Schneider use to play video games with them, he would chaperone them on trips to the mall or museum, or he would bring in a chair for the two non-Alvarez’s at dinner. Especially since he hasn’t picked up Syd in the past week. Of course he would start to notice. 

 

He can take a guess, but he’s not gonna pry. It’s her business. She knows he knows that. He’s proven himself to be capable of keeping things from her family before. When Alex spilled the beans (yeah, he was the last person to trust and will be the last to be told, thank you very much) when she was still figuring out her sexuality, Schneider had kept everything under wraps. That couldn’t have been easy for him; keeping things from mom-mode Penelope wasn’t easy, and it’s hard to lie to your best friend, so of course it was hard to lie to Lydia. But he stuck to his word and kept it a secret until she was ready. 

 

Not just for that either. She doesn’t know everything that goes on with her mom, but she knows she confides in Schneider. Elena’s seen how her mom is comfortable with relying on Schneider when she’s having an anxiety attack. At face value, he seems like the kinda guy that would boast about something like that, but his silence speaks volumes for his character. She knows she can trust him. 

 

So when he opens his door late one night to find a tearful Elena, he seems surprised, but doesn't waste time pulling her in for a hug. She can’t help but wonder if he’s ever done this for her mom. 

 

He wordlessly shepherds her inside, shutting the door behind them so they can have some privacy, and sits her on the couch, his arms never once loosening their grip. 

 

If this was any other situation she’d be rolling her eyes. This was so annoyingly like him, she thinks. Her mom’s first instinct would’ve been to ask what’s wrong. There’s nothing wrong with that--she’s her mom, so she’s bound to be concerned. It’s not a big deal. It’s just not what she needs right now. 

 

She came to Schneider not really knowing what she needed, but even without knowing the whole story, he already knows exactly what she needs. He pulls her tighter, He kisses her hair and rubs her back as she whimpers into his chest, breaking down before she’s even gotten the nerve up to tell him anything. 

 

If she didn’t know Schneider well enough, she’d actually believe that he wasn’t freaking out right now. She’s sure he has questions of his own, even if he was holding her close and smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

 

He was radiating some kind of energy that she couldn’t exactly place. It was calming, but it seemed like more than that. It made her feel like she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge her for it. Like she could tell him she ruined the good thing she had going. Or she could tell him how she always screwed everything up. Or she could tell him how she was a horrible girlfriend and didn’t deserve to date anyone ever again. 

 

She could tell him she was miserable. 

 

He wouldn't push. He’d never push. But when he finally asked her, she knew it was only out of love. 

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

 

She pulled away a little, wiping her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I do.” 

 

His hand, still on her back, began rubbing small, soothing circles again. “It’s okay. Go at your own pace.”

 

Elena took a deep breath, willing herself to stop crying. “Syd and I broke up.” She meant to sound strong, but it came out weak and broken. He nodded sympathetically, cocking his head in motion to go on. “I screwed up, Schneider. I mean… what if I’m not good enough? What if I’m not good enough for anyone?” 

 

Just like that, every emotion she’d kept buried in her pillow came bubbling to the surface as tears flowed openly down her red cheeks. “What if I don’t deserve to find someone?” She was practically wailing at this point. Schneider pulled her closer and hugged her in earnest. Through broken sobs and short breaths, she told him everything. She told him how it happened, how Syd got tired of her never listening to their ideas, how she tried to apologize but everything she said was just an excuse, how lonely it felt as they drifted apart, how much it hurt to accept that maybe it was better if they broke up. She told him how much she missed them, how much she wanted to call them to apologize, to talk about the latest episode of Brooklyn Nine Nine, to ask how they were doing, hell, just to hear their voice. She told him how much she hated herself for putting Syd through that. She told him every insecurity, every fear, just everything. 

 

“Listen,” he said, pulling back and lifting her chin slightly so she would look at him. She blinked owlishly at him. “You’re such a kind and wonderful young lady. This is your first real relationship, and your first break up. It’s going to be hard, but you can’t get yourself down about mistakes. Just learn from the experience and use that to become a better, stronger person. I know you can. You’ve grown into such an amazing human being and I learn so much from you every day.” To punctuate his little speech, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

 

She was crying all over again. This time they were both silent as the muffled sounds of her quietly crying into his shirt seemed to echo through the large apartment. She was 100% sure that his shirt was soaked through, but he stayed there, holding her until she pulled away.

 

Elena wondered how they got to this point. When did Schneider become the person she could turn to for stuff like this? Since when did Schneider’s approval mean more to her than her own father’s? 

 

She still loved her Papi, that is. It’s just… he wasn’t exactly the most dependable guy. She wouldn’t ever go to Papi for something like this. Not only was she still not convinced that he was totally on board with the whole lesbian thing--especially with a non-binary partner--but he just seemed too… manly. Ugh, that was cisnormative of her. But her father was kind of the embodiment of toxic masculinity. And sure, he was working on it, but that was still so ingrained. And honestly, she’d just been let down by him too often to trust in him like that.

 

But Schneider? Schneider had always been there for not just her, but her whole family. Schneider taught (well, “taught” is a little generous, but she’d go with it for now) her how to be a handyma’am and what it meant to be a super. Dumb as he was, she trusted him. She could confide in him, she knew, and he would continue to support her. That was just his nature. 

 

She wondered if being available for the emotional breakdown for tenants was part of being a super. 

 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, softer than she’s ever heard his voice. “Some hot chocolate?” 

 

She nodded, still emotionally raw. Hot cocoa did sound nice. Plus, she knew he had some Abuelita brand, her favorite. But as he rose and quickly walked to the kitchen to put the milk on, her breaths became shorter. She tried to take deeper breaths, but that just made it worse and she panicked, her breathing light and quick. 

 

Schneider was at her side instantly, the dip of the cushion as his weight settled on the couch already comforting her. He made a dramatic show of reaching out his hand to put on her back, giving her ample time to protest or move away. When she didn’t do either, he put a hand on her back and gripped both her hands in the other. 

 

“Look at me,” he said. “Deep breaths, deep breaths. Match with me.” He made a big motion of him breathing in, the hand on her back falling and rising with the motion of his chest. 

 

It took a few minutes, but Elena eventually came down. She squeezed his hand with hers, nodding, but still not really able to talk. She pressed a hand to her forehead, somewhere between relieved and embarrassed. It wasn’t quite an anxiety attack, but it must’ve been something to do with all the pent up emotions these past couple of weeks. 

 

He looked at her, and this time the concern was written all over his face. “Are you alright if I leave for a sec?” he asked. As soon as she nodded, he leapt to the kitchen. Elena remembered he’d started making hot chocolate. 

 

“Sorry!” she yelled, running into the kitchen. “Is it okay?” 

 

He flashed her a cheesy grin. Classic Schneider. “Everything’s coolio, girl! Nothing overboiled, but unless we want burnt milk, we should probably scrap it.” 

 

Elena nodded, the darkness settling in her stomach once again. “I’m really sorry, Schneider.” 

 

Stove abandoned, he reached out for her again. “Hey,” he said, gently squeezing her arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m always here, okay? Whatever you need.” 

 

She sniffed and wiped her nose, looking away. She didn’t want to start crying again. But as he pulled her in for another hug, she found herself unable to keep the tears reigned in. 

 

He pulled away and stuck some mugs of water in the microwave. “Yeah, not making  _ that _ mistake again.” As he fluttered around the kitchen, breaking the chocolate brick into smaller portions fit for cups, he would reach out and comfortingly press a hand to her back or squeeze her arm, grounding her with each gentle touch. 

 

Eventually he handed her her drink, still stirring his so the chocolate would dissolve. It was still too hot to drink. She brought her face up to the mug, letting the warmth seep into her hands and rise to warm her face. It fogged up her glasses, so she set them aside as she let her eyelids flutter shut and enjoy the relaxing moment while she could.

 

When she opened her eyes, she saw Schneider gazing fondly at her. “What?” she asked, a little defensive.

 

Schneider’s smile was broad and kind in a way she hadn’t noticed. He shook his head a little before looking down at his own cup. “You just… you look so much like your mom.” 

 

Elena rolled her eyes as she put on her glasses again, hiding a smile. She reached and wrapped her arm around her in a side hug that he happily returned. 

 

Safe, she realized. That’s the energy that was coming off him in waves. He made her feel safe. 

  
  


III 

 

“Got everything?” Schneider asked, worried. “Phone? Charger? Wallet?”

 

Elena rolled her eyes. “Ay, come on. You’re worse than Mami.” 

 

They were waiting just next to the security line at the gate, three hours early for her flight of course. Her bags had been checked and her boarding pass was on her phone. She was ready to take New Haven by storm. 

 

“Ain’t nobody worse than your Mami,” Penelope said, digging through her purse. Elena smiled, hoping she’d brought more candy. Her bag was already filled with tortas, chips, and fruit, but maybe her mom had brought some special candy? She should’ve known better.

 

“Mom, really?” Elena swatted at the thermometer coming towards her face. 

 

“What?” Penelope asked defensively. “I just wanna make sure you’re absolutely ready!”   
  


“What would you do if I had a temperature?” 

 

Penelope frowned. “Do you?”

 

“No!” 

 

“That’s right,” Lydia added. “No one is worse than tu Mami. Now here: take the mace.”

 

“The  _ what?! _ ” 

 

“You are going off to college! You don’t want some privileged boy who thinks he can get away with anything attacking you! So I got you some mace and a knife.” 

 

Elena exhaled. “I appreciate you acknowledging the misogyny deeply rooted in the upper class that encourages young men to lay claims to things around them and treat women like objects, but I don’t appreciate you handing me weapons  _ in an airport _ .”

 

She turned Alex for support, who was too busy laughing. It didn’t seem like Schneider had been listening to anything, he was too busy trying not to cry. Elena rolled her eyes, but she had to admit it was nice to feel loved. Even if her family showed it in weird, absolutely insane ways. 

 

She’d gone up to Schneider’s room again the night before. She’d been holding it together (somewhat) throughout the whole process, but now that it was happening--really  _ really _ happening--she realized there was a very real possibility of her screwing this up. 

 

She didn’t want to go to Mami. She would’ve just started freaking out herself, which would’ve have exactly helped.  _ Now that I know how doting he would become _ , Elena thought to herself,  _ I don’t think I woulda gone to Schneider’s either _ . That wasn’t necessarily true, though. She had to admit that, for an anxious, overanalyzing Alvarez, there was nothing quite as soothing as a calming, kinda stupid, Schneider. 

 

“I’m freaking out, Schneider,” Elena had said, bursting through the door as soon as it was open and pacing the length of the living room. “What if I fail? What if I get there and everyone’s smarter than me? I was probably just accepted because I’m a Latinx, and I also mentioned in my essays that I was gay. What if they just let me in for diversity points? That’s not above those Ivy League Institutions, by the way. I knew that! So why did I decide to go to one? Ugh! Now it’s my own fault that I’m gonna fail! Why did I make such a stupid decision? Goes to show that a person who makes a stupid decision is just gonna keep making stupid decisions and then I’ll fail all my classes and they’ll kick me out of Yale and I’m not gonna be able to come home because Abuelita and Mami will be too embarrassed of the family shame. I already don’t speak Spanish! I’m on thin ice already! So I’ll have to find an apartment with a million roommates or maybe just a nicer-than-average ditch I could live in and then I’ll go to community college--not that there’s anything wrong with community college, I realize it’s a very good stepping stone for other colleges and universities and in some cases it’s the only higher education people have access to and I value their existence as a place for disadvantaged groups who’ve been systematically oppressed to better their social standing but I don’t wanna go there!! And maybe they won’t even accept me because they know Yale kicked me out and then I won’t be able to get a job and then I’ll have to sell my body just to stay alive and-”

 

“Woah, woah, woah, woah!” Schneider said, interrupting her monologue, which he was pretty sure she didn’t take a single breath for. He grabbed her arms and sat her on the couch delicately. “Pump the brakes, chica! We went from being nervous about college to prostitution in, like, thirty seconds. 

 

“Now, come on. Take a deep breath.” She followed his instructions, letting the sound of his voice ground her. “In and out, that’s it.” 

 

He spent a few more moments getting her to breathe. When she was properly relaxed--or at least more relaxed than before--he finally continued. “Now that’s all this about being scared?” 

 

“SchneiderwhatifIdon’tdogoodwhatifIfailandwhatif-” 

 

He interrupted her spew of words with a raised hand. “Ah, ah, ah. Try again. Breathe.” 

 

Elena sighed. “Okay. Okay. I’m just scared I’m gonna mess this up.” 

 

Schneider nudged her shoulder. “You weren’t scared yesterday, or any day that I can recall since you decided this was where you wanted to go. I mean, you were nervous about getting admitted, but there was never a question about whether you were going to succeed. Where is this coming from?” 

 

“I dunno. I guess it just hit me that… I’m going to Yale.  _ Yale _ , Schneider.” 

 

“I know,” he grinned, ruffling her hair. “We’re so proud of you.” 

 

“Yeah, but what if I fail?”

 

“Well, we’ll be proud of you for trying.” 

 

“Really?” she asked, unimpressed. 

 

“Well shit yeah! We’ll be proud no matter what you do. Me, your mom, your abuela, your brother. We’re not proud because of what you do--but we are very proud of your accomplishments--we’re proud because of who you are. Besides, what makes you think you won’t succeed? You earned your place.” 

 

Elena nodded, looking down. “What if they made a mistake? What if they just let me in as the token minority? It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

 

“Hey, come on. Even if they did choose you from a short list of minorities, you’re still the cream of the crop! But I don’t think that’s the case. They really don’t let just anyone into these schools. And we knew you would get in!”   
  


“Yeah, right.”

 

“Seriously! I offered to grease some palms to get you in just in case, but Penelope hit me. She always believed in you!” 

 

Elena laughed and punched him in the shoulder, but the twisting in her gut peeled the smile from her face. “I just don’t wanna screw this up for any of us.” 

 

Schneider reached around and rubbed her shoulder. “Hey. Remember when your mom was in school? She was juggling work, raising two knuckleheads,  _ and _ school?”

 

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” she asked. “Because it’s not working.”

 

“Remember how she was struggling? She was failing her classes, remember? She almost quit. But we never gave up on her, right? Because we’re her family, and we’re always gonna support family, come hell or high water. Believe it or not, that includes you.” 

 

“How are you supposed to be there for me when I’m on the opposite side of the freaking country?” 

 

Schneider gave her a look. “You’re an idiot if you think for even two seconds that as soon as your mom hears you’re having trouble that she won’t be there as fast as she can. Maybe you are too dumb for Yale…” 

 

She elbowed him, but they were both laughing now. 

 

“I believe in you Elena. We all do. Give yourself some credit. They don’t let just anyone into schools like that. You’re hard-working, you’re dedicated, and you’re passionate about what you love. You’re gonna do great.” 

 

Elena said her goodbys to Alex, Lydia, Schneider, and Penelope. She (almost kindly) returned the mace and “knife” (if you could call it that--it was practically a machete) and adjusted the strap of her backpack. “Look at you,” Schneider said, practically sobbing. “You look just like your mother.” 

 

Elena rolled her eyes.

  
  


IV 

 

“Elena Maria Alvarez Riera Calderon Leytevidal Inclan.” 

 

She walked across the stage head held high to accept her diploma. 

 

As she flipped the tassel on her cap she looked out into the audience where she could hear her family cheering for her. It didn’t take her long to find them. Lydia had brought her ginormous Cuban flag. Luckily they were seated on the lowest level of the balcony, so hopefully they weren’t disturbing anybody too much, but it still seemed excessive. Then again, would it be her family if everything wasn’t excessive? The rhythmic stomping of dozens of Cubans worried her. She was sure the building was architecturally sound, but it was really built with over-enthusiastic Latinxs in mind. 

 

After the long (long, loooooong) ceremony, Elena rushed out to hug her family. It seemed like everyone had come! Maruchi, Pilar, Susan, Consuelo, Mirtha, even Estrellita and her kids, and what seemed like everyone. Elena politely shoved her unfortunately over-affectionate family aside to get to her family. Alex, Lydia, Penelope, Schneider, and Dr. B were all waiting patiently for her.

 

Alex bent down to give her a hug. Heading into his last year of college himself, he was getting far too tall for her liking. He’d surpassed Schneider long ago. (Schneider was in shock for days. He’d holed up in his apartment so long, they’d worried he’d relapsed.) “I hope you know you’re in for quite the party tonight,” he laughed. “I’ve never seen so much rum. Just try to get them drunk and asleep before they smother you to death.” 

 

She gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you worry,” she assured. “It’ll be your turn soon enough.” 

 

Alex gulped and pulled away, eyeing the many tias surrounding them warily. 

 

Lydia was next, practically tackling her granddaughter. She looked fabulous as always. “Ay, nena,” she said, gripping her shoulders tightly. “I’m so proud of you.” She pressed a firm kiss to her forehead before pulling away and letting Penelope have a turn. 

 

Penelope wrapped Elena in a big hug, squeezing almost painfully tight. “You did it, baby,” she cried. “You got your dream.” 

 

If Elena hadn’t been crying already, she certainly would’ve started now. “It’s all because of you mom,” she said, returning the hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” 

 

Schneider was beaming down at them with pride, his eyes watery. Certainly his smile could light up the whole of Massachusetts for several days. She was surprised he wasn’t already crying. “ _ Thank you _ ,” she mouthed and he gave her a small wink, one hand on Elena’s back and one on Penelope’s. Not only had he flown the whole family out--the  _ whole _ family out--and gotten them rooms, he also had quite a hand in her graduating. 

 

Schneider paying for Elena’s college had a been a long, gruelling, war against Penelope, and not one easily fought. Elena understood her reluctance. It was one thing to live practically rent-free in an upcoming neighborhood in LA, mostly because he hardly charged any of the tenants. But accepting his money so outright seemed wrong. Penelope wasn’t one to accept handouts.

 

So she didn’t. For the first two years of her undergraduate degree at Yale, Elena worked tirelessly for scholarships, signing up for at least 20 credits a semester in the hopes of graduating early, while her mom cut back all unnecessary (and some necessary) spending and even getting a second job to cover what financial aid wouldn’t. Schneider, frustrated with Penelope’s stubbornness, didn’t come down for dinner once. Alex had kept her updated during their weekly Facetimes. He still took Alex to school and his baseball games and would still visit Lydia during the day, but he would leave before Penelope came home. For as long as they had known their landlord, they’d never seen him so worked up about something. 

 

The stress proved too much for Elena. It was too much to handle all at once; the insane workload, the constant essays and interviews for scholarships, plus the knowledge that her family back home had fallen apart. The anxiety attacks came almost daily, and she was never running on more than a few hours of sleep and had formed an unhealthy dependency on coffee. She fell seriously ill halfway through her third semester. 

 

Immediately Penelope, Lydia, Alex, and Schneider were on the first flight to visit her in the hospital. The sight of her baby girl in a hospital bed had Penelope in tears instantly. After the initial check-in involving validating the nurses and doctors, giving her own check up, and making it absolutely clear to everyone at the hospital that there was no way in hell they were leaving so they might as well shut up on that, Penelope pulled Schneider into the hallway. Lydia and Alex were asleep in the chairs next to Elena’s bed. 

 

Elena strained to hear Schneider and Penelope through the doors. They were speaking in low voices so as not to disturb any workers or patients, but Elena could just barely make them out. 

 

“Penelope, please.” Elena couldn’t remember the last time she’s heard Schneider call her mother by her full name. 

 

“Pat, don’t.” Elena was definitely sure she could count on one hand how many times she’d even heard Schneider’s first name in any context. 

 

“Do you see what you’re doing? This is insane. You know your daughter’s history with mental health. But now this is affecting her physical health. And for what? So you can be the badass who put her kid through college by herself?” 

 

“I’m well aware of my own daughter’s struggles.” 

 

“Are you? Penelope, she’s in the fucking hospital.” 

 

“You think I don’t know that?”

 

“What is this for? I can help you! Is it really so beneath you to accept help from a guy like me?”

 

“That’s not what this is about-”

 

“It certainly seems like that’s what this is about! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Elena’s been having a hard time because of this. How many hours of sleep do you think she’s getting a night? How many are you, for that matter? Lydia’s too old to be dealing with this kind of stress, and Alex is too young!” Elena could easily hear them now. She glanced at Lydia and Alex, leaning on one another as they shared a blanket. Neither of them were awake. 

 

“I know perfectly well how to handle  _ my _ family!” 

 

“Fine, I get it! I’m not family! I’ve already got a foot out the door. Just let me do this for them and I’ll get out of your lives! Let me do this for her! Shit, Penelope, let me do this for  _ you! _ ” 

 

“I can handle this on my own! I don’t need-” This time Penelope cut herself off. Elena could hear a shaky breath and two long strides; Penelope had begun to cry and Schneider, despite their argument, had rushed forward to hug her. Elena didn’t need to see them to know that much. 

 

Penelope continued. “I shouldn’t need anyone. I should be able to do this on my own. I should be able to send my kids to college so they can live their dreams.” 

 

“I know,” Schneider’s voice was so soft Elena could barely make it out. “But Elena isn’t exactly living the dream right now. More of a nightmare, probably.” 

 

Penelope allowed herself to chuckle at that, but sobered up quickly. “How much time did I waste at nursing school trying to make my dream come true? How much time did I waste being selfish when I should’ve been working to make this happen?”

 

If Elena could feel her legs or think she could sit up without an insane migraine and/or vomiting immediately following, she would’ve burst through those doors and comforted her mom in person. Luckily, Schneider beat her to it. 

 

“Woah, woah, woah, chica. Don’t you think for one minute that you made a mistake with that. You’re a nurse practitioner! Do you know how awesome that is?” There was a brief pause where Schneider seemed to be processing. 

 

“You’re a badass, Penelope Alvarez. You save lives, you’re a great mom, you’re an amazing daughter, and you look great doing it.” Another small laugh from Penelope. “Don’t ever forget how amazing you are.”

 

He paused again. Elena could picture his brow furrowing, wondering if he should continue. “Accepting some help now and then isn’t gonna change that.” Penelope sighed and Elena could tell she was opening her mouth to say something when Schneider quickly cut her off, rattling off his reasons. “Listen, I have the money, okay? I know you’re not asking me to do this. Hell, you’re explicitly asking me  _ not _ to do this. So you don’t have to feel bad about me feeling pressured to do this. I promise you I want to.” He took a deep breath. “It’s been… so hard to watch you suffer this year, Pen. Lydia and Alex, they’ve told me what it’s been like for you. 

 

“I remember your night terrors and panic attacks came a lot more when you were under stress. With all the shit that’s been going on this year, I can’t even imagine what’s been going on up here. But I know it can’t have been good. And it killed me knowing you weren’t going to come to me when you needed help. I love you--love being there for you. It makes me feel wanted, it makes me feel needed. And I’ve never felt that way before. But with you, and with your family… I feel, for the first time, that maybe this is what it’s like to have a family. I get that you don’t feel that way. I’m not asking you to. But it’s been really hard not seeing you this year.

 

“If there’s anything, anything I can do to help you, I’m going to leap at the chance. Especially when it’s something as simple as this. I know money is a big thing for you, but it’s not for me. So please let me help. I just… I hate seeing you in pain, Pen. Worse than that, I hate knowing you’re in pain and  _ not _ being able to see you.” 

 

Penelope sniffled. “I’ve missed my best friend, Pat.” 

 

“I’ve really missed you, too.” 

 

Elena’s ears burned red. She couldn’t help but feel like she was intruding. In a way, she supposed, she was. She was listening to her parents fight. Schneider! Her mom and Schneider fight. (Her parents? Where had that come from?) But she hadn’t expected the moment to feel so intimate. 

 

“I mean, I could see my best friend at any time. Lydia and I still drank coffee in the mornings,” Schneider clarified and Penelope laughed. Not just a weak chuckle, but a genuine, full laugh. Elena couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard that. 

 

“I get it, Schneider.” She took a deep breath and the pause seemed to last hours. “You can’t pay for everything,” she relented. Elena had to stop herself from laughing out loud when she heard Schneider’s excited “Yesssss!!!” which was no doubt followed by a fist pump. Penelope continued, interrupting his celebration. “Half! That’s it, okay? No more, no less.” 

 

“Half of tuition or half of what’s left after financial aid? You know what, doesn’t matter, I’m just gonna take the win, we can argue about this later.” 

 

“Come here, you big goofball.” 

 

Elena shut her eyes quickly as they walked through the door, catching a glimpse of her mom smiling as she had an arm wrapped around Schneider’s waist and his hand was on her shoulder. 

 

She could feel the weight of their gaze. Through her eyelashes she could see their woefully gloomy looks. She woulda rolled her eyes and let them know she was fine, but she didn’t want to clue in on her listening to their conversation. 

 

“We’ve never fought before.” 

 

“Definitely not like this.”

 

“Agree to never do this again?” 

 

“Pinky promise.” 

 

And so Schneider had paid for half of what was left of tuition for the remainder of Elena’s time at Yale. She wanted to graduate a semester early since she had the credits to do so, but both her mom and Schneider insisted she drop to taking 12 credits for at least the next two semesters so she could take some time to unwind. Elena wouldn’t admit how relieved she was. 

 

She was nervous bringing up law school, though. Of course, everyone expected it, but it wasn’t anything anyone brought up out loud. They didn’t want a repeat of what had happened before. When Elena finally asked about it, it wasn’t until she’d already received the financial aid packages offered at each school she was considering. 

 

Lydia had clasped her hands in delight before smothering her with kisses, saying “Ay, qué chula, qué linda, mi niña.” Alex gave her a high five, nodding proudly. (The real kicker came later when she saw he’d posted about her on his Insta on how lucky he was to have such a smart, impressive sister. If she cried a little, who’s to say?) Schneider had given her a hug and had to be pried off by Penelope, who wrapped her arms around her tightly. “My little baby’s growing up,” she whined into Elena’s hair. 

 

Elena rolled her eyes, a grin still plastered on her face. “Mom, I’ve been to college before.” 

 

Penelope pulled away, holding her daughter’s hands. “Yeah, but this is different,” she insisted, flashing Schneider a look. 

 

Indeed it was different. There hadn’t been a big blowout fight like before, but there were long talks--some with Elena, Schneider, and Penelope, some with just the two of them. Eventually they reached a consensus. These past few years had been hard on the Alvarez’s financially, especially with Alex going off to college, too. Schneider would pay for half of both Alex and Elena’s straight tuition, not including financial aid. 

 

It was too much for Penelope and not enough for Schneider, so it was a good compromise. And if Schneider began paying for groceries when he went shopping with Lydia or sending both the kids a small allowance each semester, no one said anything about it. 

 

Now here they were, three years later. 

 

Elena delicately removed herself from her mother before wrapping Schneider in a bear hug. 

 

Schneider looked down at her, practically overwhelmed with pride and love seeing her in her robes. She half expected him to bust with joy, and yell it out to the whole world. 

 

Instead he practically whispered it. 

 

“You look just like your mom.” 

 

Elena pulled back, just barely shaking her head, and looked at her mom again. Her mom looked beautiful. Her dress was flowier than her usual style, but it suited her. Of course it was a deep maroon to match Lydia, Alex’s, and Schneider’s outfits, who had all color coordinated with Harvard’s signature color and Elena’s stole. Elena had laughed well Alex facetimed before the ceremony showing everyone getting ready. It was so like them .

 

It wasn’t hard to remember Penelope’s graduation, though it was nearly eight years ago. She remembered how proud she was of her mom in that moment and how proud and powerful she looked as she walked across the platform to receive her diploma. Elena hoped she looked half as strong.

 

Elena reached out to her mom again, who gladly returned the favor. “No,” Elena muttered, barely loud enough for Schneider to hear. “I should be so lucky.”

  
  


V 

 

She spent longer than she wanted to admit as a starving lawyer. 

 

That wasn’t really something she thought could happen. Turns out, trying to live as ethically as possible wasn’t as easy as she thought. 

 

In between doing a lot of pro-bono work, refusing to work for large corporations, the federal government, or otherwise unethical businesses, and her continued involvement in activism, she was barely scraping by. Not that she minded, but it was a little embarrassing to be outdone by her younger brother, a successful social media marketing consultant. She was proud of him, though, even if they did get into arguments about the morality of profiting off of unfree labor in a capitalist society every time they visited home. 

 

She decided to move back in with her mother after her abuelita passed. 

 

They all knew it was coming. Strong as Lydia was, she wasn’t the god she claimed to be, and she wasn’t immortal. She’d been having health issues for over a decade now, 

 

The funeral had been quite the event, as requested. The wake was more akin to a party. Relatives singing along to Julio Iglesias, the old teaching the young how to salsa properly, the floor practically giving out from dozens of dancing Cubans, and, of course, Cuban flags decorating the entire apartment. They’d had leftovers for weeks. 

 

Everything happened so fast that no one had a chance to process anything until after the funeral. Lydia’s death took its toll on the whole family, but it hit Penelope hardest. When Tito and Alex left to get back to work (they’d taken two weeks off, which Elena appreciated--her mom enjoyed the company), Elena hung around a little longer, until she eventually asked her mom if she could move back in. 

 

Penelope froze in the middle of pouring coffee. When she resumed, she responded. “I’m fine on my own,” she’d said. It wasn’t cold, but it was detached in a way that worried Elena. 

 

Shit. Her mom wasn’t stupid, but she’d hoped they’d get a little farther than this before getting called out. Elena distracted with the other, very legitimate reason she wanted to stay. “Ay, it’s not about that, Mami. New York is expensive. And cold!”

 

Penelope wasn’t accepting that that easily. “What about your job?” 

 

Elena twisted in her seat a little. This conversation wasn’t going to be easy for more reasons than one. “I don’t have a job,” she said quietly, noticing in the back of her mind just how easy it was for her mom to make her feel like a kid again. 

 

Penelope set the coffee on the table with a rattle and turned to give her a sharp look. “What about that job you were telling me about with the ambassadors?” 

 

“I kinda got fired?”

 

“Ay, Elena.” 

 

“Turns out they were being totally sexist-” 

 

“Elena-” she cut herself off, holding a hand to her forehead. “Elena, the world isn’t as cut and dry as you think it is.” 

 

“I know that-” the younger Alvarez started, but she was silenced by a raised hand. 

 

“You can’t fix everything. If you go around thinking you can just win a debate and change the world, thing aren’t gonna go well for you.”

 

“I don’t expect this to be easy.”

 

“Hopefully not!” Penelope snapped, her voice getting louder. “How many jobs is it, now, that you’ve quit on principle?”

 

“I didn’t quit, I was fired-”

 

“For what? Throwing a fit because the entire world doesn’t meet your standards?” Elena didn’t say anything. “How long did this one last? Four months? Three? Two?”

 

“What, I’m just supposed to let them walk all over me?”

 

“You’re a lesbian Latina woman, Elena! Get used to it!”

 

“I don’t feel comfortable compromising who I am just so I can keep living in this messed up world! That’s not what you taught me!” ‘That’s not what abuelita taught me,’ went unsaid.

 

Penelope sucked in her breath and sat down. Elena winced. She’d gone too far. Then Penelope smiled. “You’re right,” she said, reaching out to hold her daughter’s hand. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I just worry for you, you know that right?” 

 

“I know, Mami.” 

 

“I love you. You know that too?”

 

“I know, Mami.” 

 

Penelope scooted her chair over and gave Elena a hug. Elena could hear her mother start to cry. “I’m so proud of you. Of who you are, who you’ve become. But I’m scared, too.” She pulled back and smiled sadly, tucking a loose hair behind Elena’s ear. “The world’s gonna hurt, baby. Of course, I’m always here to support you.” She paused, blinking away tears. “But I’m not gonna be here forever.” 

 

“Oh, Mami.” Elena pulled her mother back in for a hug. She kissed the side of her head. “I’m gonna be okay. If you and abuelita taught me anything, it’s how to be strong.” 

 

Penelope laughed as if to cover a sob, burying herself in her daughter’s shoulder. “I know you’re gonna be okay, ni **ñ** a, mi vida. You’re gonna be just fine.”

 

Elena had moved back into her old room. She started looking for jobs, and her mom helped check to make sure they met her standards. It wasn’t always successful, but Elena continued her activist work in the meantime, and started writing a book. 

 

While it was a little embarrassing to be in her late twenties living with her mom, there was something nice about being home. She’d missed her mother’s cooking, and it was good to be closer to family. Alex would occasionally come home for dinner--he travelled a lot for his job, but he lived in a nice apartment on the other side of LA--but more often than not it was just her, Mami, and Schneider, who had increased his visits to every night. She wondered if he’d started doing that when both kids moved out or when Lydia passed. Either way, it was nice to know her mother wouldn’t be totally alone when she did eventually leave. 

 

One dinner, around eight months after she’d moved back in, she announced that she was finished writing her book. Schneider and Penelope froze, one mid-chew and one with a fork half raised. 

 

Schneider reanimated first. “You wrote a book?” He asked, a smile pulling across both cheeks. 

 

“You were writing a book?” Penelope’s question was more of an accusation. “How did we not know about this?” 

 

Elena shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I just didn’t want to tell you guys until it was official.” 

 

“Official?” Penelope sputtered. “It’s getting published?” Schneider’s smile only broadened. 

 

“No, no. But I sent the transcript to a few publishing companies.”

 

“How come you didn’t tell us?”

 

“Yeah,” Schneider added. “I could’ve hooked you up with a company--any company.” 

 

Elena couldn’t help but smile at his earnesty. “I wanted this to be something I did by myself, for myself, ya know?” 

 

Penelope getting excited; she was bubbling almost out of her seat. “Have you heard back?” 

 

“Not yet, but I will soon.” 

 

“Can we read it?” 

 

Elena flushed, unable to keep a grin from forming. “I guess,” she said, suddenly embarrassed. “I can’t watch you read it, though.” 

 

Penelope and Schneider both nodded vigorously and Elena nearly laughed. Penelope blinked. “Well, go get it!” she urged when no one had moved. 

 

“Okay, okay,” Elena jumped out of her chair to go get a copy. “Geez.” 

 

Penelope and Schneider eventually ended up going to his apartment to read the draft. Elena had, supposedly, been “extremely annoying” and “as anal as your abuela” when she insisted they couldn’t read in the living room (in case Elena needed to get water from the kitchen), or even Penelope’s room (in case Elena could hear them through the walls, don’t they seem like thin walls, they look like thin walls, Schneider should maybe get that looked at). Penelope rolled her eyes, muttering something about how if the walls really were that thin, this wouldn’t be the first time it came up, but she relented and followed Schneider to his apartment in exile. 

 

Elena paced around the entirety of the apartment nervously. She tried watching some old episodes of Buffy to calm herself down, but it wasn’t working. She even tried playing video games, but she couldn’t stop worrying. Eventually she settled for laying down on the couch and kicking her feet in the air to get out her nervous energy. She wasn’t being childish, she assured herself. 

 

She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder gently coaxing her awake. “Hey, baby,” Penelope cooed softly. Elena’s eyes fluttered open. Penelope was kneeling in front of the couch, reaching out to grip her hand, and Schneider was leaning over the back of the couch, his hand squeezing her shoulder. Both of them looked like they’d been crying. 

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Penelope continued. 

 

Elena didn’t stop smile tugging at her lips. “You liked it?” 

 

“I loved it.” 

 

Elena felt the tears run down her cheeks. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, feeling giddy, sleepy, and, most of all, loved. 

 

“Come on,” Penelope smiled, clapping Elena’s thigh. “Let’s get you to bed.” Penelope stood, motioning Schneider to get Elena as she went ahead to her room. 

 

Schneider helped Elena stand, practically picking her up until she was on her feet. She blinked up at him. “Did you really like it?” 

 

“Yeah!” 

 

“Do you think she really liked it?” 

 

Schneider smiled, kissing her on the forehead. “Oh course she did. She kept turning to me, asking if I could even believe her daughter wrote this. ‘This is some Dickens level shit,” I’m pretty sure she said. ‘Toni Morrison who?’” 

 

She elbowed him, laughing. 

 

“You’re growing up, kiddo,” he said, tearing up. “You look just like your mom.” 

 

Elena elbowed him again. “I’ve been grown, fool. Took you long enough to notice.” 

  
  


I - her wedding 

 

If Elena thought Penelope was bad at her quinces, she was woefully unprepared for Penelope at her wedding. Penelope had been a scattered wreck for weeks. Despite being told repeatedly by both Elena and her long-suffering fiance that they had it all under control, Penelope spent the past few days supervising (micromanaging) every detail of the event. 

 

Hours before the ceremony, Elena just allowed her mother to run about anxiously, her feet barely touching the ground. She trusted Alex, her “best man of honor”, to prevent their mom from giving herself a stroke. For now, she didn’t want to deal with any of the chaos. She just wanted to take a moment to relax. 

 

When she pictured settling into a comfy couch waiting for her hair to set, she hadn’t thought Schneider would be sitting right next to her looking through old photo albums, but honestly she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

“This is you when you were around three? You always hated dresses, even then.” 

 

Elena shot him a quizzical look. “How do you know? You weren’t around then?” 

 

“No,” he admitted. “But I spent most of the days with Lydia while you and Alex were at school and Pen was at work. I loved those old photo albums and she loved telling me about them,” he reminisced fondly. 

 

Elena studied him closely. The smile lines on his face were more pronounced and his eye crinkles peeked farther and farther out from behind the frames of his glasses with each passing year. He was aging rapidly, and he was accepting it with a surprising amount of grace considering how insistent he was in past years that he was much, much younger than Penelope. When mentioned, he would say he’s lucky he looks this good considering he spent half his life chasing a line with a bottle. 

 

It pains Elena more than she’d like to admit to dwell on it. She knows his body has been put through significant strain throughout his life. While he seems fine laughing it off and accepting his fate, she’s not ready to let him go. Lydia’s death left the whole family in shambles. It goes without question that his will, too. She hopes that by the time it’s her turn to hold the torch, by the time Penelope will move in with her, Schneider will, too. 

 

Penelope insists on staying at the apartment for now. By now, Elena has a steady job at a good company (a non-profit working to submit amicus curiae briefs on human rights cases), not to mention the book revenue. She’s offered to buy her mom a house, but Penelope’s refused. She gave up the facade that it was because of the good location or multiple bedrooms (they were vacant, anyway, but still kept clean and orderly in case of visits from family members or potential grandchildren--though Elena and Penelope have both wisely tabled that discussion for now). She’d stopped paying rent ages ago, anyway. 

And if Schneider has been spending more and more time in Penelope’s apartment, well what else is new? She knows what a comfort Schneider is to her mom. Sure, he’s had his own share of rough patches, but he’s always been there for her family. She trusts him to take care of her mom and vice versa until they’re both ready to move in with Elena. 

 

They’re both pushing 60 at this point. Elena’s already prepped her fiance so she’s not thrown for a loop when Penelope (and hopefully Schneider) eventually moves in with them. But for now, she has Schneider to look after her. 

 

Schneider notices her staring. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

 

“Are my thoughts worth that little to you?” 

 

He snorted. “ _ Someone _ thinks rather highly of themselves all of a sudden.” But he smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What’s up?”

 

She didn’t know quite what to tell him. ‘Nothing, I was just thinking about you dying.’ That wouldn’t do. “I’m just really glad you’re here with me today.” 

 

Schneider’s grin broadened. “Well, duh I’m not gonna miss your big day. And I’m always here for you,” he added. “No question.” 

 

Elena gave a stricken smile. He must’ve realized what she was thinking from her pained expression. He rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed deeply. “I mean, thank goodness you finally got married,” he teased. “If you’d waited any longer you might’ve had to have your wedding at the cemetery so I coulda made it!” 

 

She laughed a little. It really did help that he was so ‘fine’ with it, even if he was just a bit too flippant for her taste. She ran her hands through his grey hair fondly. She knew he was happy that he wasn’t balding, at least, (“It’s a matter of pride for the Schneider men. Full head of hair, right on up to the bloody end.”) even if it was completely grey at this point. “Do you wish you’d had kids of your own?”    
  


“I do have kids of my own,” he said, shaking her shoulder. She laughed, but nudged him. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t really think that would’ve worked out, considering my history.” 

 

“Family history or personal history?”   
  


“A little bit of both, I guess. You’re right; I don’t really have the best track record with either.” 

 

“Schneider,” she scolded. “You know none of that was your fault.” 

 

He shook his head. “Whose fault was it?” There was no self-loathing in his voice, though, not like there would’ve been twenty years ago. He’d accepted his past and she had to respect him for that. 

 

That still didn’t keep her from having questions. “Don’t you regret not getting the chance to start your own family?” 

 

Schneider sighed, genuine this time. “Sure I have regrets. I can’t blame anyone but myself for all the time I wasted. But, no matter what has happened and no matter what will happen, I cherish every day I get to spend with you and your family. You’re my family. Even if the feeling isn’t reciprocated, I’m completely fine giving the Alvarez’s 100% of the all the love lil ol’ Schneider has to give.” 

 

She smiled weakly at that. He looked at her with bright blue eyes, so earnest and caring. He’d never looked at her any other way. No one had been there for their family like he had. “I wish it was you walking me down the aisle today,” she said at last. 

 

It was almost comical how fast his eyes teared up. He was truly speechless for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something but when nothing came out he just wrapped his arms around her in a hug. 

 

Finally, he chuckled. “You know, I don’t think Victor would like that very much. He doesn’t seem to like me very much.” He ended with his voice raised, almost like a question, unable to figure out why someone didn’t like him, a guy who tried so hard to be likable.

 

Elena snorted. “Maybe it’s ‘cause you punched him in the face that one time?”

 

“That would do it.” 

 

His eyes fell to the photo album, forgotten on his lap. “You know,” he said, voice cracking. “You look just like your mom.” 

 

She followed his gaze. Next to a picture of her pouting ferociously in a dress was a picture of Penelope holding up a young Elena, both sporting matching smiles, broad and (at least partially) toothy. Elena raised a hand to her mouth. She really did have that same smile, didn’t she? 

 

Schneider, seeing her expression, flipped to another page where there was another picture of Penelope with Elena. This one, Elena remembered. At least, she knew the story for it, since it had been told so many times. It was “dress like your favorite hero” day in school--maybe second grade?--and while everyone dressed in baggy superhero costumes, Elena had dressed in jeans, converse, a cardigan, and a blouse. She wanted to look just like her mom. If Elena wasn’t tearing up before, she definitely was now. 

 

He turned to a different page. This one was relatively blank, except for two photos: one on each page. One was Penelope in her white graduation robes taking her graduation photo, looking tough and proud. The other was Elena in her black robes, with the same expression. 

 

Another page. It was more reminiscent of a scrapbook than a photo-album. It was a bit older--probably from when Elena was still in high school. One side was a small shred of a Cheeto bag, and Lydia’s distinct penmanship, dramatic and Extra that was fitting of her, reading simply: “gordas.” On the other side was a picture of Lydia, Penelope, and Elena, each with a very serious expression, tearing the remnants of a Cheeto Puff bag in three so they could each lick a portion. Elena chuckled.

 

Another. This one had a series of photos that were more recent, though she hadn’t seen them before. Penelope and Elena both had their laptops at the dining table, presumably working. The next image was them looking above at the person holding the camera quizzically. Schneider, who must’ve been secretly taking pictures at the time, had said something stupid. Elena was a little sad that she couldn’t even remember what it was. The third was a blurry photo of the two of them laughing. Elena was in focus in the fourth, still laughing, but Penelope was a blur as she seemed to be falling out of her chair. The final photo was partially black and the frame itself was blurry, but Penelope was obviously completely off the chair and Elena was pointing with one hand and covering a laugh with the other; Schneider had leaped off the couch to check on Penelope. 

 

Schneider flipped back through the album until he found the page with Penelope’s wedding. “I know you don’t always see it,” he said, cheeks wet, “But I do. I always have. You look so much like your mother, it’s crazy.” 

 

Elena looked at him, eyes brimming. She couldn’t think of what to say. Thankfully, a knock on the door interrupted them, giving her an excuse for not saying anything. 

 

Penelope walked in, her hair looking a little more frizzy than it had an hour ago. “What’s going on in here? Schneider being a sap again?” 

 

Elena nodded, trying to wipe tears from her eyes without smudging her makeup. Schneider simply stood up and walked to Penelope in a few strides. He held her hips and placed a kiss on her forehead. Penelope smiled up at him before turning to look back at her daugher, leaning into Schneider’s chest a little. 

 

“You good?” Penelope asked, voice laced with concern as her daughter stayed abnormally silent. 

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Elena assured. “Schneider here is taking care of me.” 

 

“I was just checking in. Schneider, I swear, if you mess up her makeup because of those stupid old photo albums, I’ll use them to beat you.” Penelope warned before leaving as quickly as she came, both looking after her fondly. 

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of Elena's thoughts on this are taken from personal experience. It's weird to feel disconnected from your family and culture because you don't think you look the part. The story where the teacher thinks Penelope was the nanny happened to me and my mom every year from kindergarten to middle school, so I get it. There's only one picture of my mom where I think I look like her. I've been working on it, and now sometimes I see it a little more. I'd like to think Elena also struggles with the way she looks. 
> 
> I know this is a bit long, so thank you for reading. If you got all the way through, let me know! I'm getting back into writing and I'd really appreciate feedback or reactions.


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